


Volantis

by Aurondarklord



Series: Stormborn [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:59:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurondarklord/pseuds/Aurondarklord
Summary: When last we left our intrepid Mother of Dragons, she was being airlifted towards Volantis by her trusty scaled steed, following the disastrous and appallingly rushed ending to Game of Thrones. She was also (SPOILER) dead as a doornail after randomly going bananas. I refuse to let that stand, this incredible character and her fans deserve better, so I have resolved to the best of my abilities to make that so. So where Benioff and Weiss leave off, we shall pick up, thanks to priestess Kinvara, who's team Dany all the way and waiting in Volantis to give our Khaleesi a jump start. Stormborn will chronicle the continuing adventures of Daenerys Targaryen, beyond Westeros and beyond death. Writing this story helped me cope with the sadness and anger of watching as a show I loved for a decade was tanked by two jerks who couldn't be bothered to give it the time and attention it required. I hope reading it helps others dealing with the same colossal letdown.





	1. Chapter 1

A deep breath of hot, Volantene air filled Dany's lungs as she hauled open her tower window to greet the sun. She had been moved to more stately suites within the Red Temple, with the required amenities and vanities for a queen's business. She had not FORMALLY declared herself Queen of Volantis...yet, but each day more treated her as such. There had been...other reasons for the move as well. She'd burned three pillows and one entire bed on account of her crown flaring to life of its own accord as she slept, necessitating that she take residence in one of the temple's older towers where the construction was almost entirely stone in case it happened again. Daenerys craned her neck from side to side, feeling the bones crunch. A steel circlet fused to her skin was not the most comfortable thing, her hair had to be cut and styled around it carefully, Kinvara's smiths had spent most of an afternoon removing errant drips of metal, sanding down edges, and dislodging hardened droplets from her hands, and at times it itched so fiercely she almost gave in and had Drogon melt it off her, but she was getting more used to it with time. Kinvara had started getting used to it as well, though still didn't seem the least bit happy Dany hadn't even warned her before melting down what she considered a holy relic. The power dynamic between her and the inscrutable red priestess still had not quite stabilized.

Drogon was in the courtyard below, breaking his fast on a pair of oxen. He had taken the ruin of one of the temple complex's older chapels for his lair, but spent most of his time in the main courtyard when he wasn't airborne. After her "coronation", Daenerys had thrown open all the gates of the temple grounds, garrisoned the walls, and proclaimed sanctuary within to all slaves and bondsmen, all maltreated women and children, and anyone else in need of shelter from Volantis' myriad cruelties. Thousands had poured through those same gates within hours of her decree and more came every day. The Great Temple of the Lord of Light was the largest religious structure in the known world, its sprawling grounds so vast they could have been a small city in their own right, she had no shortage of space. The Triarchs and the Volantene nobility had been livid and mustered an army to storm the temple immediately. Daenerys had tried to be gentle, targeting siege machines, war beasts, and supplies where she could, she knew most of the Volantene forces were slave soldiers, but Drogon still taught enough of a lesson that their ranks broke in minutes and no second attempt was made. Compared to Qyburn's monstrous machines, their weapons smashed against Drogon's scales like so many twigs. Nominally the temple was still under siege, but this seemed mostly a way for the Triarchs to avoid admitting defeat and save face, a small branch of the Rhoyne provided plenty of water, and food or any other supplies that were needed could simply be carried over their lines by Drogon. They impeded the ability of refugees to reach the temple, but a few times a day Dany flew overhead, scaring them off to allow larger groups to sneak through. More recently, small groups of slave soldiers had begun to defect, only a few now, but more each day. Perhaps the Triarchs saw the same sign in this that Dany did, they had finally agreed to meet with her this afternoon and discuss terms to end what they politely referred to as the "stalemate"...she had much to prepare for.

Dany opened her chamber door to let in her handmaids, eating carefully from a tray of biscuits one was carrying so as not to spill the honey slathered on them as the others attended to her hair and clothes. Daenerys picked a black dress with a long pleated skirt and a cape patterned like dragon scales and fastened by two silver penannulars in the shape of her house sigil. The warmth of Volantis was welcome, and with it lighter, looser clothes, Westerosi winter had left her sick of being layered up to her neck in scarves and high collars. Styling her hair around her crown had been another challenge for the temple attendants, she hadn't left them that much to work with after cutting her braids, and they'd needed to remove still more to fix the mess she'd made doing it with a broken dragon tooth. They had managed to salvage something that passed for a bob, and she'd allowed her bangs to grow out more so she wouldn't look quite so much like Viserys wearing it. She was only too keenly aware of the darker influences in her blood and trying to avoid them. Ya Han, a Yi Tish priestess...the very same once seen by Tyrion, preaching of Daenerys in the streets...entered with the handmaids, supervising their work and Dany's preparation to meet the Triarchs. "Doniphos Paenymion is my only potential ally, recently returned as Triarch after two years out of office for not wanting to go to war with me the first time. I don't know what to think of that considering I sent him his nephew's head." Daenerys began before Ya Han could start quizzing her. "He did not favor that nephew, Your Grace." The two shared a smirk and Daenerys stifled a laugh. She liked Ya Han. "Clearly not. Parquello Vaelaros belongs to the Tiger party and is the man most directly responsible for the army currently encamped outside my gates, but apparently a Vaelaros married a Targaryen seven hundred odd years ago, which makes me his kin by way of some two dozen generations. He may desire my hand because of that, which I have no intention of giving him, but..." Daenerys gestured to the revealing cut outs of her chosen dress, self-consciously shifting the fabric to cover the scar beneath her left breast. "Which leaves Nyessos Vhassar. His wealth comes from slaves, his constituents are almost entirely slaveholders, and he would very much like to present them my head, but he is so deeply in the purse of Illyrio Mopatis he cannot see the sunlight from down there, and wary of Magister Illyrio's ties to my family."

Ya Han nodded. "Coddle Triarch Doniphos, twist Triarch Vhassar's arm, flirt with Triarch Vaelaros." Daenerys raised an eyebrow pointedly at her third suggestion. Ya Han shrugged. "I was a bed slave before I was a priestess, Your Grace. It always worked for me."

"And I am a queen.", Dany retorted, more amused than offended.

"It works even better for queens", Ya Han returned her banter before Dany refocused on the subject at hand.

"And no matter what, I must remain on Drogon's back throughout the audience and not allow them to see my feet touch the ground, or I will lose their respect. Which I will contend as a custom is utterly..." There was a loud, insistent knock on the door, and a man's voice from outside.

"Your Grace, you must come swiftly! There are men outside the walls, Dothraki!"

"How many?", Daenerys asked back. More than a few had turned up in Volantis so far, members of her Khalasar who had returned across the Narrow Sea upon hearing that she was alive.

"I think... **all** of them, Your Grace."

Dany's heart leapt. Her people...she had hoped for this day, prayed for it. She knew the character of the Dothraki, they followed strength, not girls foolish enough to be murdered by their lovers, last she had heard most of them had taken to raiding across the plains of southern Westeros, and she expected few to be inclined to do otherwise. Shoving the last of her biscuit into her mouth, Dany burst out the door and rushed down the tower steps, unable to keep herself to a queenly pace in her excitement. She hurried through the temple, into the courtyard, and onto Drogon before remembering she had no idea which gate the Dothraki had come to. One of the Fiery Hand seemed to notice her pause and intuit the source of her confusion, pointing north. Daenerys smiled to him and took to the sky. The northern side of the temple plaza did not have its own fortified walls, but rather faced the city walls of Volantis proper. The Fiery Hand had seized much of the north wall in a surprise attack immediately following Daenerys' coronation, and held it since, but the largest portion of the Triarchs' forces encamped outside the city around it. As she flew, Daenerys worried her efforts to avoid fire and blood would be for naught, and she would arrive to find the Volantenes butchered by her Dothraki in a misguided effort to please her. _It would have pleased the person I let myself become in Westeros..._ , she couldn't help but think. Thankfully, it had not come to that, the Volantene army had withdrawn some distance east of the temple as the Dothraki approached, wisely unwilling to fight such a large Khalasar with their backs against a wall held by foes. Dothraki, so very many of them, near the entirety, she estimated, of those forces that had survived the Long Night, were currently tearing apart the enemy camp for plunder. She could hear the cheers as she circled above once before landing outside the walls, the horde clearing space for Drogon. Several Dothraki fighters rode up to her, men she recognized, lead by a warrior named Bako, who now wore a Khal's stripes painted on his shoulders, his arakh at his side and a longer weapon, wrapped in furs, strapped to his back.

"Blood of my blood.", Daenerys greeted him in Dothraki. He looked at her half-disbelieving, as though he were seeing a ghost, as though some part of him had been expecting to come all this way, only to find he was chasing a rumor."

"Khaleesi," Bako answered, respectful but wary still. "Is it true? They said you were murdered. Then that you were not. Some spoke lies of you, said you were never murdered, but abandoned us, or that a demon now wears your skin. They will speak no more lies, but I must hear from your own lips that you are still our Khaleesi, returned from the Night Lands."

"I don't need to **tell** you." Daenerys replied, lifting one of the bands of cloth that covered her breasts an inch to show Bako the scar. His eyes widened as he stared at it, before taking his waterskin and washing off his painted stripes, dismounting, and prostrating himself before her. Great hoots and cheers erupted from the crowd of Dothraki, prompting a roar from Drogon as well. Daenerys slid down from her dragon's back and walked over to Bako, raising him back to his feet, smiling at him warmly. His timing could not have been better. A dragon put her in a strong bargaining position with the Triarchs, but now at a stroke she outnumbered their forces as well.

"I brought you a gift, Khaleesi," Bako smiled back to her and gestured to his riders, who had two carts brought forwards, covered in thick sheets of roughspun. The cloth over the first was pulled back, revealing it to be full of heads, dozens of them. "These are the men who spread lies about you." He motioned to the other cart and its cloth was pulled back as well. More heads, these without eyes, noses, or tongues...removed before they died, from the look of it. "And these are the men who did not believe those lies, but wished to break their oaths to you anyway." Bako's bloody gesture of loyalty simultaneously moved and appalled Dany. She had been dead, she could not truly blame those who mistrusted the story of her miraculous resurrection, or even those who lost faith in such a bizarre circumstance...but she also knew that by Dothraki standards, this was a markedly small amount of blood shed for a man to accomplish so much. She nodded to Bako, pleased. Bako had a way of looking at her sometimes, one she had known many times before...one that was not entirely the look of a bloodrider towards his Khaleesi. No doubt, he had heard the story of how the last man to bring her the heads of her enemies had ended up in her bedchamber, it had been told enough times, many of them by the very man it concerned. These were far more heads.

"Bako, blood of my blood, for this act of fealty and for your unwavering faith in me, I would name you my personal shield, the man I trust most to stand by my side and guard me from harm." She avoided the term "Queensguard" judiciously, a Dothraki would not likely find it much of a reward at all to be bound by the rules of that institution. Bako placed his fist over his heart and nodded to her solemnly....and then there was that look again. Now that she was no longer with Jon, she found she liked when he looked at her that way...and she had to admit that Bako, a tall, lithe and well-muscled man with a long braid and a strong, handsome face, was rather pleasant to look at as well. But, she cautioned herself, at least for the time being, looking would have to be all that she did. If she began to be known for offering such rewards to men who killed for her...there were enough men who desired carnal knowledge of a queen to make Volantis a tomb.

Dany began to settle the Dothraki immediately. She would have to clear a lot of space, even considering the scope of the temple grounds, for the Khalasar to make camp, she did not want them outside the walls, where conflict between them and the Volantenes would no doubt erupt. There would be time for that if she was unable to resolve the situation through diplomacy. She could see Kinvara's crimson palanquin approaching as well, the Flame of Truth striding towards them, seeming almost to glide across the ground sometimes. "Your strength is almost restored, Your Grace. And I have seen you stronger still than you have ever been." She glanced Bako up and down. "You have a role to play, guard our queen well." She spoke Dothraki as though she were born to it. Bako seemed thoroughly confused by Kinvara's manner and foreknowledge. Daenerys had questions as well, how could she be stronger than she had ever been? Once she had had three dragons. Could Kinvara mean Dany would truly succeed in hatching more? Had she seen that in her flames? Before Dany could ask though, Bako walked by Kinvara, and the priestess' skin turned to gooseflesh as she clutched her ruby necklace reflexively. "That thing on your back. Show it to me." Bako looked even more confused now, looking to Daenerys. Internally, Dany kicked herself, sighing and nodding to Bako. There was no sense fighting Kinvara on this, she would see what she sought to see anyway. Bako unstrapped the furs on his back and unwrapped them, revealing a glistening blade with a long, leather-wrapped handle, almost a spear...made entirely out of unmelting ice. The blade of a White Walker. When they had died, their weapons had remained. After the battle, some among both the Northmen and the Dothraki had claimed them as spoils of war. The first man to lay his hand on one had lost that hand to frost, heavy gloves and extra layers of leather wrapping were needed for an ordinary man to wield one safely, but they still possessed the power to chill ordinary weapons on contact, rendering them brittle and easily shattered, making them prizes well worth claiming to the bold. Kinvara would be hard to sway on that point though, Daenerys realized she should have thought of this and gotten in front of it. "This abomination will **not** enter the Lord's sacred temple! This is the weapon of The Enemy! Cast it into the Rhoyne and be rid of it!" Again, Bako looked to Daenerys. He would do so if his queen commanded it, but he clearly did not want to.

"This weapon was claimed in battle. I won't ask him, or any other man who wields one, to destroy or discard it. Nor will I ask my armies to weaken themselves when we face another enemy literally at our gates. To my horror, I've seen what these blades can do, what is thrown into a river can be fished out by another man, perhaps a foe. I won't see that happen again."

Kinvara scowled. "Then tell your dragon to destroy it."

"I'm not entirely sure that he can." In fairness, she wasn't entirely sure that he couldn't, either. Whenever she'd survived burning, her clothing had not, yet the Night King's weapons and armor had not so much as singed. Whether that was a property of the items themselves or some sort of aura he exuded, she did not know.

"That is all the more proof that it is an unholy thing, unfit to be in the sight of the Lord or the presence of His champion." Kinvara seemed unwilling to budge, and Daenerys did not wish to risk pushing her away over a piece of ice.

"I will order my soldiers to keep such things wrapped at all times on the temple grounds, and never to bring them into the temple itself, but they may keep them in their own camps." Dany relented, offering compromise. Kinvara thought it over for a moment and frowned, but nodded. Further discussion would have to wait, however, as Ya Han and two Fiery Hand...the ones who had been at her door and were supposed to be guarding her, finally catching up...rode up.

"They have come, Your Grace!" Ya Han blurted out, "The Triarchs are here!"


	2. Chapter 2

Daenerys shifted uncomfortably on Drogon's back, attempting to sit side-saddle on a creature who was to say the least not remotely built for it. Kinvara had advised her that by Volantene custom, she would look more regal to the Triarchs if she presented herself as though Drogon were some sort of living litter rather than a steed. She had already tried standing, but did not imagine she could keep her footing if the dragon decided to move around. Growing ever more annoyed as she felt her skirt catch on a spine, Dany gave up on the whole notion, pulled the garment free, and assumed her normal riding posture. Surely she would lose more credibility in the Triarchs' eyes if she accidentally exposed her hindquarters to them because an errant frill tore her dress open. Drogon seemed to sense her frustration, snorting and shifting his weight. Even with its large doors, squeezing Drogon into the nave of the temple had proven challenging, and though there was more space on the inside, Daenerys watched his every step to make sure he didn't knock down support beams or smash sacred altars. The time was rapidly coming when she'd no longer be able to ignore the logistical challenges of her child's continued growth. The sound of horns reminded her that was a consideration for another day, however.

The great temple doors swung open once more, and no less than 50 trumpeters filed in, marching in two lines in such rigid lockstep they would have impressed the Unsullied, taking positions on opposite sides of the entry and raising their horns as a herald in rich Volantene robes walked between them, cleared his throat, and announced Triarch Doniphos Paenymion. The trumpets blared a fanfare, Dany soothing Drogon as he alerted at the sudden noise, and the Triarch's elephant lumbered in, draped in colorful silks and jewels, with a small, corpulent, and very bald man sitting atop it. Light practically seemed to gleam off of his head, Daenerys found herself wondering how that was even possible. Next announced was Triarch Parquello Vaelaros, a man of Valyrian features, perhaps a decade Daenerys' senior, who rode in clad in impractically ornate orange and black armor, designed in tiger motifs of course. Though he had the bearing of a man who thought incredibly highly of himself, he was still strikingly handsome, which was a considerable relief to Dany if she was going to attempt to win him over with charm. Last was Triarch Nyessos Vhassar, a middle-aged man with long, greying hair, possessed of a strong frame and a mean bearing, who, in a display clearly meant to provoke her, had barded his elephant entirely in tapestries depicting the breaking and training of slaves. The temple nave had been cleared of pews, allowing room for the three elephants to spread out. Daenerys studied these men carefully, as, she had no doubt, they were studying her. Parquello was the first to speak up. "I do not wish to begin our discussions on a hostile note, but let it be known to Your Grace that each of us is holding hostage one hundred slave children, should any of us not survive this meeting, that man's hundred shall be slain. Forgive me, but you have acquired something of a reputation for killing men at bargaining tables."

Dany narrowed her eyes, but nodded. Distasteful though they were, she could not truly blame these men for taking precautions. She had chosen fear, it would be a long road to prove to the world she wanted to make a different choice. Triarch Doniphos spoke next, beginning the negotiation in earnest. "We Triarchs have discussed the situation at some length already. To hear mummers tell it, you sought to reclaim your ancestral seat in Westeros, but you were betrayed and murdered before....some sort of blood magic revived you? Regardless of whether this is true, it seems to us that the enemies against whom you should be directing that beast of yours...and your rightful throne...are across the Narrow Sea, so what we do not understand is...why are you here? We ask nothing of you, we have done nothing TO you, we simply wish you to leave and leave our city to its ways and traditions, and return to where you belong. We are more than willing to pay you to do so, richly. House Targaryen has no claim to Volantis...."

Dany frowned, cutting him off. "Don't we? It seems to me that I am the last of the Valyrian Dragonlords, and thus heir to all the was once Valyria's."

"You are far from the last!", Parquello bristled. "My dragon blood is as pure as yours!"

Dany smirked as she regarded the man, "As pure? Drogon could test that claim this very minute if you'd like. If you do not burn I will be gone from Volantis before sundown. All I ask is your word that no child shall be harmed should the outcome be otherwise. What say you? No? Anyone else wish to boast of their dragonlord heritage?" She looked to each of the men, who glowered but did not rise to her bait. "We could argue about claims and bloodlines for the rest of the afternoon and surely we would get nowhere. I have a dragon and I have a larger army than yours, already within your city walls. If I chose to stake a claim, you could not stop me. But that's not what I'm asking for. In fact if you wish I am willing to formally and publicly renounce any claim to Volantis or her lands. My one demand is the end of slavery in Volantis, which you all know can no longer sustain here either way without the Dothraki to procure slaves, and the cities of Slaver's Bay to train them. Accede to this and I will trouble you no further."

"And if we don't?", Nyessos Vhassar finally spoke up, "To be clear, I'm not disputing what you CAN do, only what you WILL do. You've lost your nerve, "Mother of Dragon", along with everything else you lost in your Westerosi debacle. You're a little girl who got one taste of what war really takes, fled across the sea, and locked herself in a temple. We've watched you on your dragon, burning carts and panicking elephants. You don't have the stomach anymore, not to do what you'd have to do to bend Volantis to your..."

Drogon reared and Daenerys' burning crown flared to life, the sudden, startling display of magic stunning the triarchs as their elephants trumpeted and backed away from Drogon nervously. "I just realized the temple doors are shut. Its walls are thick and made of stone. Its doors are gilded iron. Drogon could kill you all in seconds and no one would hear you scream. I could find and rescue the children you cowards are hiding behind long before anyone realized you were dead. Or at least I'd have a good chance of it and I might well take that chance. Of course I didn't really "just realize" that, I considered it from the start, because what you're doing is what people like you always do, what Cersei did, and it didn't save her from me. I don't have to unleash my armies on Volantis, my armies are already occupying it. They sleep in your houses, they wash your clothes, they tutor your children. And they will throw you down the moment they realize they don't have to be afraid of you anymore. Test my nerve. Please."

The Triarchs glanced furtively to one another and Dany, underneath her unwavering, steely glare, inwardly sighed in relief. She HAD, in fact, just realized the temple walls would not carry sound, or at least that she hoped they wouldn't, the rest had been a hasty bluff, Vhassar had gotten under her skin, deeper than she cared to think about...

"Volantis is a city of trade, it cannot simply cease to have laborers one day. You would cause far more harm than good!", Doniphos appealed, which was something Daenerys HAD thought about. She did not want to repeat the turmoil and upheaval she had caused in slaver's bay unnecessarily, delivering men from bondage only to give them poverty instead was scant improvement. "You once offered my nephew seven years to adjust to the new way. He was a fool who tried to cheat you and for that I apologize. We would not make the same mistake."

Dany grimaced. SHE had not made any such offer, and the man who had... _just one more way Tyrion betrayed me_ , she thought to herself. But he had not been ENTIRELY wrong. "I am willing to accept that change takes time. But it does not take seven years. I will allow you ONE year. You will end your siege, and you will seek no retaliation against any slave who has sought refuge here, nor attempt to press them back into bondage should they leave."

"But you will turn away any slaves who seek flee their masters in the future", Parquello interjected, "At least for the time of one year."

Daenerys gently brushed her bangs to one side, smiling to Parquello, "I'm sure we can work out the fine details together...less formally."

He let it go for now. She did not like having to bat her lashes at a man who stood for everything that disgusted her in the world, but the alternative was to make a promise that she did not know if she could keep even if she tried. A year of turning a blind eye seemed unbearable. But at least some progress was being made. She did not like these men, was resolved, in fact, that she would never like them, but they seemed reasonable enough to realize their situation and act accordingly. She was starting to allow herself hope that perhaps this could work, perhaps fire and blood would not be needed here, and if it could be done in Volantis, it could be....

Her hopes were dashed as Drogon lurched without warning, Daenerys grabbing on tightly to his spines as the great beast seemed to lose his footing for no reason and was suddenly, violently ill. Scalding, reeking bile ejected from the dragon's maw all over Triarch Doniphos' elephant, searing the animal to the bone. It panicked, tripping and toppling, sending its rider, who himself had severe burns, careening to the ground. Dany merely watched in abject disbelief as any chance of peace was destroyed in the most random and bizarre fashion she could imagine. She did not know that a dragon even COULD be sick. Was he in danger? Had he been poisoned? Dany snapped out of those thoughts, fighting for control before Drogon accidentally attacked the other Triarchs, who were already fleeing. There was no point in trying to appeal to them now, or to convince them that this had been an unforeseeable accident and not a betrayal, and by the time it occurred to her that the only logical move in this moment was to carry out her earlier threat, the trumpeters had already pulled the doors open and it was too late. Suddenly it seemed too late for so much.


End file.
